


Buried

by Feelsripper



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Buried Alive, Gen, chemical burns, just pretty traumatic in general, poor Bashir, seriously man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelsripper/pseuds/Feelsripper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Impaled, dehydrated, and buried alive, Bashir doesn't think his situation couldn't get worse.</p><p>Except it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Bashir’s eyes fluttered open to a world of darkness. The air was thick and clammy, and as he tried to move he began to panic. His body wouldn’t budge, and there was pressure pushing down on him from all directions.

He couldn’t panic. That was the first and most important rule of his medical training; don’t panic.

His rabbit heart thumped against his ribcage with a feverish frenzy, his pulse keeping time with the erratic, rapid beats.

Quick breaths, quick breaths Bashir. What was that old saying? Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, quick, _quick_. Why did he remember that now? It was useless, useless, useless—

He almost choked trying to catch his breath, but his breathing didn’t slow, for the muffled moans of agony filled his ears, his lungs, his pores—- it was all around him. The suffering, the wails of people trapped, buried, submerged in rubble were all around him.

And he was one of the many.

That’s right.

He finally let out the breath he’d been holding, and inhaled again, slower this time.

He was in a rubble heap.

He shut his eyes, filling his lungs with the dusty air around him once more. Already his eyes had started adjusting to the dusky light, taking in the mess of wires and pipes hovering precariously in front of his face. If he moved ever so slightly, it could come crashing down, and then there would be nothing to clean up but an ugly mess of his once pretty face.

What a chilling thought.

He shifted ever so slightly, groaning as the threads of the pipes dug further into his shoulder. He moved his head to get a better look, flinching at how the dull gleam of the pipe caught his eye. Thankfully it seemed to have missed all the important bits, but it didn’t stop the sight of his managed shoulder from being any less disconcerting.

Great, not only was he immobilized, he was also impaled. He just couldn’t be moved.

He turned his head to the left, surprised by the pair of small dark eyes peering back at him. They were wide with fear and innocence, fluttering ever so slightly. A Bajoran child, no older than six years old, lay within arm’s reach, watching him with hesitation. Right off the bat, Bashir could tell that something was awry; the child was far too quiet for the circumstances. Instead she continued to look on, to look _through_ him, with large unfeeling eyes, sucking idly on her thumb.

“Are you alright?” He called to her, straining against the rods that fixed him to the spot. He tried to ignore the cold wetness of the fabric against his skin. If he looked, he knew he would find his shirt and trousers soaked with blood.

Hopefully it would still before he was in serious trouble.

Serious trouble. He found himself chuckling, perhaps a little mad with the gnawing anxiety in his stomach. He was already in a bad way, with not only being skewered, but buried under a thick mesh of copper and rubble.

“Mama.”

Her soft, pitiful voice freed him from his hysteria. That’s right, there were still people in this together with him. As long as there were injured parties, he was needed. He could tend to his needs later.

“Your mother will find you.” He murmured, trying to mask the pain in his voice and focus solely on her. “Don’t you worry.” He gave his best smile. “I’m a doctor, you know. People will be looking for us.”

“No they won’t.” Her beady little eyes blinked slowly, languidly.

“Oh come now, don’t be like that! There’s still plenty of hope to be had.” He realized how hollow his words seemed underneath the chorus of anguished groans and stifled sobs.

“Mama isn’t gonna find me.”

He turned his head further, despite the strain, to take a better look at his patient. It was with horror that he realized that the ghostly pallor of her skin was painted scarlet, her tiny arms coated, her powder blue shirt soaked. There was no way she was going to survive the night if she’d already lost that much blood. For that matter, he may not either. If he was lucky his blood would start to clot around the foreign objects imbedded in his shoulder.

Then again, luck seemed relative when buried alive. It seemed he’d already drawn the short stick already.

“I need you to answer me very carefully; it’s important, okay?”

She gave a feeble nod.

“Is that your blood?”

Thankfully she shook her head no.

“Whose blood is it?”

She pushed the thumb further into her mouth, mumbling around it. “Mama’s.” Her listless eyes slowly wandered to the—oh god.

Bashir shut his eyes a moment, before taking deep breath to steel himself and calm his nerves. Gore and death were no strangers to him, but it never got easier with children.

“Don’t look at her, look at me, okay?”

Her gaze shifted to him. At least she seemed to be a little more comfortable due to her small frame, and she appeared to be free of debris. “Tell me, are you hurt? Are you in any pain?”

Her eyes fluttered to a half close, taking on a sleep like quality. “I want Mama.”

“I need you to tell me if you’re hurt so I can help you, okay?”

“Okay.” She sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. Oh how he envied her mobility.

“What’s your name?”

“Xione.”

“It suits you. Now, Xione, can you tell me where you’re hurting?”

“I…I don’t feel good.” A soft sob escaped her lips, as if the events of the day were finally taking their toll on her.

“Good, good, that’s a good start! Why don’t you feel good?”

Silence.

Despite the steady rise and fall of her tiny chest, he feared for her. He needed to keep her conscious.

“Xione? I need you to answer me, I’m trying to help you.”

At first, she didn’t respond., After a moment of hesitation, she found her voice. It was shaky, but strong. “H-head. Hurts.”

Head wounds were never good, _especially_ in this situation. He had no medical supplies on hand, and he couldn’t even examine her in proper. Hell, by this point he’d be doing good just to move. Despite their dismal situation, the odds were still in her favor. Thankfully she was young, so she could still bounce back. The downside was that he couldn’t see the extent of her injuries, or if she even had any. The light flickered without any apparent rhythm with only moments of illumination. One moment he was plunged into darkness, and the next blinded by the stark white light. From his current angle, however, she looked fine. If anything she looked a bit queasy, but she given the situation and the fact she was _covered_ in blood he considered it a reasonable side effect. The only thing that worried him was how sluggish she was. That, and when the light caught her eyes just right, her pupils appeared out of proportion with one another. With this level of visibility he wouldn’t be able to tell if she had a concussion or not. For all he knew, it could be the shadows playing tricks on his eyes.

In the end, it was moot. Without supplies and range of function, the most he could do was talk her down. After today, he suspected that just keeping the little girl calm would be a challenge.

He attempted to shift only to be greeted with a wave of pain. It frustrated him to no end to be completely immobilized. Right now he should have been out of the rubble heap, digging out survivors and saving lives. Instead he found a way to be a useless pincushion beneath a ton of twisted metal.

His stomach began to growl.

How long had he been without food or water? Better yet, how long had he been trapped? There was no way for him to know how much time had transpired from the initial collapse, to him passing out, to now. All he knew was that one moment he was minding his own business in the infirmary, and suddenly the walls began to shake and…

…That’s all he could remember. Just the station trembling, and then darkness.

He had a feeling there would be plenty of time to contemplate what caused such destruction. After all, he’d probably be done here awhile. He’d tried not think just _how_ long, but he hope it would be fairly short. For both his sake, and Xione’s. At least she was stable, from what little he could tell. Hopefully she would remain as such until help arrived. There was little else he could do for her now, and it was finally time to tend to himself. After all, he couldn’t be much use to her if he _died_.

He let out a small cough, groaning at how his ribs pulled. Yup, definitely at _least_ cracked.

He settled down again, already feeling a fine layer of ash and dust coating his skin. There was one last thing he needed to do.

“Xione, are you still with me?”

“Yes, Mr. Doctor.”

He found himself smiling through the pain. “You can call me Julian, Xione.”

“Okay, Doctor Julian.”

Kids.

“Listen to me very carefully: I need you to keep your mouth and nose covered, alright? Try and use a clean part of your shirt or sleeve, if you can. Could you do that for me? It will keep your airways clear.”

“Wh-why do I need to do that..?”

There was no mistaking the fear in her voice. As a healer, it was his duty to take whatever pain, imagined, physical, or mental, away. Still there was no reason to scare her any more than she already was. “It’s so that gunk doesn’t get in, okay?”

His answer seemed satisfactory to a six year old, for she did as advised. He too, followed suit. Careful not to move any more than the had to, he pulled up the now faded undershirt and covered his face. Thank god for the undershirt, because what was left of his uniform was already filthy and tattered.

No amount of training could have prepared him for a situation like this. It was practically torture looking up into the void, never knowing the hour, or whether it was day or night. Without a clock the hours would crawl by like years.

With his free hand he fumbled for the command pin. If they were going to find him or anyone else, this was the way. It was his last hope, and yet his heart sank upon realizing it’s absence. His communicator was missing somewhere in the heap with all the bodies and the…

Shit.

That’s right.

This was the infirmary. Why hadn’t he connected the dots sooner?

There were patients being treated when…whatever it was happened. They had gone to the infirmary as a place of healing and sanctuary, and _this_ happened. It just got worse though. The cries in the dark were shared between his coworkers, and the patients. Their pain was one in the same now.

Shit, shit, shit.

There were people out there who were dying for aid, and most of the medical staff that could administer treatment were indisposed. Even if a few people could dig their way out, if their condition was anything like his own, things didn’t bode well.

Personally, he counted himself as one of the lucky ones. Sure, it was a problem that he’d been stabbed in the first place, but he’d gotten out clean as far as he was concerned. He could have been skewered multiple times, and yet all the vitals and nerve clusters were spared. Even with his shoulder wound he’d been fortunate. He was fairly certain that his clavicle was broken as well, but the subclavian artery hadn’t been hit. Thank God too, because he certainly wouldn’t be here otherwise. However, he wouldn’t know the extent of the damage done to his shoulder until he was freed.

By now the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and his body was becoming acutely aware to the bumps and bruises he’d collected. He felt every jagged piece of foundation, every fold in his uniform, every source of discomfort jabbing into him at every which way. If he moved an inch, his shoulder would explode with pain. Even breathing caused some movement, which was a problem in and of itself.

There was very little doubt that his chest hadn’t been crushed or knocked around in some form or fashion. Every rib crackled with each breath, his chest constricting tightly and painfully as he did so.

The air and his undershirt already made breathing a chore, the last thing he needed was a pair of cracked ribs.

And yet that seemed to be exactly what the cards had dealt him.

Against his will, a soft groan escaped. His back was beginning to hurt too.

A quiet voice from the dark answered him, “Doctor Julian, are you okay? You don’t sound okay.”

He really, really wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to fess up to a terrified child who had _just_ lost her mother. “I’m fine, I’m just uncomfortable. Don’t worry about little ol’ me.”

“Please don’t die, I’m scared and I don’t want to be left alone and I want Mamma, and—” Her frantic words were gobbled up by greedy sobs.

“I’m not going to die.”

At least, he hoped so. He was beginning to carve out a nice life here, it would be a shame to have it slip through his fingers at the last moment.

…He really hoped the others hadn’t been affected. The image of his friends, Jadzia, Kira and oh god, _Garak_ especially, confined, made his stomach lurch.

He shut his eyes and forced himself to repeat it with firmness, “I’m not going to die.” And neither were his friends. Not today.

“Promise?”

“I promise. I won’t leave you alone, I’ll be here the entire time.” He really hoped he’d just made a promise he could keep. This little girl had seen enough death already.

Some poor soul in the background was frantic, screeching for help. It did nothing for their nerves, and he could he hear her whimpering in the dark.

“My friends will find us.” He quickly mumbled. They both needed a distraction, badly. “Don’t worry.”

“How…How do you know?”

Her speech was a little more sluggish than he’d like. Best to keep her talking, then. “They’re incredible people. I’ve never met so many amazing people in my life, and if anyone can find us it’s them.”

The quiet was beginning to creep back in, and the anxiety with it.

He hastily added, “What about your friends?”

A small sigh escaped her tiny frame, “Mmm…they…they…” It seemed like speaking was difficult. Her condition appeared to be deteriorating rapidly, despite the fact that she had seemed she had fine just moments before. He was afraid to keep her awake, but even more terrified to let her sleep.

Maybe all he could do was ease her into the grave.

…What was wrong with him? He was a doctor for heaven’s sake. If there was a way to save someone, he’d take it, and he wasn’t about to throw in the towel just yet. She was young, she was fairly healthy she was…

No matter how many advantages he listed out, they felt like excuses, and his heart sagged from the truth. There was a good possibility, that she was dying.

It was as if she’d heard his very thoughts. “They…Doctor Julian, I’m…I’m too tired…Tell me about…yours.”

“Would you like that?”

She nodded sluggishly. At least she seemed comfortable.

“Well then.” He licked his lips, appalled by how dry they’d become, “Since you asked.”

Where should he start? Xione really had no idea what she was getting herself into. Was this a situation where he could talk freely? Would he talk to much?

He mentally berated himself. The girl was _six_ , she probably didn’t care one way or the other. If she was tired of his voice, she’d let him know. All he could do was comply by her wishes, and keep her happy. It was the least he could do.

“Well… I have this one friend, O’brien. He’s such an unpleasant—” He managed to catch himself before he uttered some rather _colorful_ phrases, “— _person_ , but give him an engineering problem and he’ll have it fixed in the blink of an eye. Why, he’d probably working on the lights right now. Soon we can have proper lighting, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Mmmhm.”

“Now Jadzia, she’s a Trill, but she’s also in the science division. She’s not apart of the medical team, but she’s handy in a pinch. If I was in a medical emergency I’d trust her with my life. She’s intelligent, witty, and…she’s just an incredible woman.” He took a moment to mull over his words, and took a moment to admire the wonderful woman he’d come to know. Jadzia was fascinating to him, and she made him feel somewhat normal. Her vast experience dwarfed his in comparison, and it was that feeling of normalcy he chased for all those years. She always had a way of making him feel like a small school boy around her. She had a way of forcing him to be humble, and make him appreciate it.

“Is she pretty?”

“The prettiest, although Major Kira is a close second. She’s Bajoran, like you. Out of all the people I’ve met though, she’s the strongest and most passionate person I’ve ever met. If you need something done, get Kira on it. She won’t stop until it’s done, and done well. If she’s looking for us, we’ll be rescued in no time.”

He didn’t see the point of reminding them all it might be a few days before she found them, or the fact that a day may have passed already.

He paused, allowing the girl a chance to speak if she chose to. When nothing came, he continued right along. “Odo and Sisko have to be two of the most honorable men I’ve met, next to O’brien.”

“I thought you said he was mean?”

He couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Oh he is, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t honorable. I have great respect for him, as I do for Sisko and Odo. Although, now that I think about it they all have their mean streaks…” It wasn’t particularly funny, but he couldn’t help but envision their faces when they frowned. There was something so charming and amusing by how their brows furrowed—

Ow, shit, that was a bad idea.  
A hiss escaped his lips before he could quiet it. Laughing was _definitely_ a bad idea.

“Doctor Julian!”

“I-I’m alright Xione. I’m alright.”

“No you’re not!” She yelled back at him, hints of hysteria already evident in her wails.

“Okay, I’m not. But I will be. We both will.” He grit his teeth, trying to suppress another groan. It was important he keep up a facade. “N-Now, where was I? I was talking about Commander Sisko and Odo, wasn’t I?”

She let out a small whimper.

“Shh, Xione, you’re going to be fine.”

“But you—”

“I’ll be fine. Our medicine is really advanced, and there’s probably already a rescue team on it’s way. Please don’t worry about me. I don’t want to cause you any more distress than I already have.”

She stiffed a sob, and hiccuped instead. “I don’t want you to—”

“I won’t die. I promised, remember?”

She nodded again, but it was even more sluggish than the first time.

“So, Odo and Sisko. Shall I continue?”

“Y-yes please.”

“Well those two have an odd sense of humor that _I’m_ usually on the receiving end of. But no one has a more wry, stranger sense of humor than Garak. That man is really something. ” He chuckled softly to himself.

“You must really like him.”

He paused, and frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“Because…you sound so happy talking about him.”

Huh. It wasn’t his intention to sound so fond of him. If a six year old could see through him, perhaps everyone else could as well. He tried not to dwell on it too much; he did a good enough job embarrassing himself on a daily basis without _that_ to worry about. “Ah, well, he’s… a very good friend of mine. A very special friend who enjoys ruffling my feathers, and confusing me, and just overall making my life unbearable.”

“Then why are you friends with him?”

Oh how he wanted to laugh at that, but he knew better. His body was still reeling from his last bought of humor. “It…It happened more by accident. I actually approached him because he’s somewhat of a rarity on this station. Turns out he’s one in a million. He’s—he’s just so frustrating! He’s a conundrum wrapped inside an enigma behind that _maddening_ smile of his! And yet, I can call him friend, no matter what he does. I don’t know _how_ , considering we’re the most unlikely pair of people, next to Jake and Nog. Somehow though, I think he makes me a better person. God help us all. I don’t know what he gets out of it—-Xione?”

“Mmm. Go on.” Her eyelids were heavy with sleep. “Sorry, but…your voice is really nice. It’s warm and stuff.”

He hesitated a moment, feeling suddenly bashful. “Thank you, Xione. That’s very kind of you.” Funny, hadn’t Garak said something of that effect? ‘Oh I don’t mind your chatter so much, Doctor. Your voice is like silk. Fine, smooth silk.’

Now was not the time for such thoughts.

“Anyways, those are whom I hold closest, and dearest to me. I mean, there _is_ Quark, but he’s a bit at odds with everyone. He’s a slippery one, can’t make heads or tails of what he’s actually up to. Makes a fine stout—”

It was too quiet.

He rolled his head just enough to see her still form. A wave of panic hit him, but he quickly forced it down. Perhaps she had just fallen asleep. After all, her chest was still rising and falling, and a little sleep probably _would_ do her some good…

Still, his thoughts ran from him.

Finally he decided that she was indeed asleep, and not into a coma or _worse_.

Slowly, he turned his face back to it’s original position, staring straight at the makeshift ceiling above him.

This was going to be the hardest part of his survival yet: would the flickering lights, lack of sleep, pain, or silence drive him mad first?

It was a game he wasn’t quite ready for.

He never would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is completely Alkalyne's fault, and I think the people should riot.
> 
> But I digress.
> 
> I'm only around season three in DS9, but also I'm fairly new to the Trek franchise in general. That being said, I hope you guys enjoy it and don't want to maim me too much if stuff is wrong. If it is, just politely send me a note in my inbox or my tumblr (http://the-chalk-dust-riddle.tumblr.com/). There are roughly seven chapters for this monstrosity, and the chapters will alternate between Bashir's point of view to Sisko's and vice versa.
> 
> Most of these chapters are unedited, so if you see something please let me know! I'll probably try to spruce these up every so often as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Sisko paced around the control center. He was never a fan of waiting, especially when the status of his crew hung in limbo. Jadzia and Bashir had yet to return to him, and he desperately needed their expertise at a time like this.

Meanwhile, the chief engineer was stooped over a gutted machine, the wires spilling out every which way as he reconnected each individual cord to their original slots. “Would you stop hovering? It won't make me work any faster, and I'm doing all that I can, Commander.” O'Brien glowered.

Sisko took a few steps back, composing himself. His nerves must have been frayed considerably. “I know. You're doing an excellent job, and I have faith in you.”

“Well, don't pressure a guy.” He let out a wry chuckle, but the humor was lost. He continued to tinker on the mechanical mess in front of him.

O'Brien was the best they had, but even he couldn't work fast enough. Several sectors were without power, and communications were down. What was worse was that the medical staff had been strangely absent, and he had a horde of injured people who were in need of attention.

At least Jake had come out unscathed. A shiver went down his spine, as he tried to push back the memories of the last time an incident like this occurred. Despite his efforts, Jennifer's crushed body haunted the back of his mind. It brought him little solace to know her face had been peaceful when she passed. To think something like this could happen twice.

At least his son was safe. That's all that mattered now; keeping his people safe.

Kira stormed in the entrance, Jadzia by her side. “Commander!”

Thank goodness.

“What's the report, Major?” He rushed to her side, gently helping the Trill into a chair. She seemed fine for the most part, minus the cut on her face, and the bumps and bruises.

Kira on the other hand, was scowling something fierce. “Just as we feared. I don't know what struck, maybe some space debris, an asteroid or, prophets forbid, a bomb. We just don't know yet. Several sectors are without electricity and one of the airlocks is completely devoid of air. Can we get the fires under control?”

“Probably not. We're doing good to have power.”

“So I guess we'll have to put them out the old fashioned way, huh?” She shook her head, “All this technology, and yet we're still just as ill-prepared for something like this.”

“Space is still relativity unknown to the likes of us. There are only so many ways in which one can prepare for the unexpected. We survive, and live to see another day. We'll be ready next time.” He clapped a comforting hand on her shoulder before turning to Jadzia.

“Are you both alright?”

Kira pushed back a lock of singed hair. “I'm mad as hell.”

Sisko let out a dry laugh, “Then I'd say you're perfectly fine, Major.”

Jazdia nodded in agreement, “I don't think I'm in serious danger, but that's not important.” She attempted to stand, but was too woozy to lift herself any higher than a few inches.

The Bajoran was by her side immediately, gently taking her hand. “Jadzia, you need rest. Don't push yourself.”

“I _can't_ \--” She tried to sit up, but was forced back down. “The infirmary, it's... it's completely caved in. I was one of the few that managed to get out, but there are still people, patients and doctors alike, trapped underneath the debris. There were a few lab assistants that escaped, but I told them to make a makeshift medical camp in the safest terminal and help the wounded.”

The woman looked completely exhausted, yet she managed to keep a level of alertness about her as she scanned the room for damage. Suddenly, a look of horror crossed Jadzia's features as she began to scout among them, “...Where's Julian?”

“You mean you didn't see him?” Kira's eyes widened, and they all shared a look of mutual horror. They'd all just assumed that someone had seen the doctor at some point in time. Now, they didn't have to wonder where he'd gone off to.

“...He was in the infirmary when it collapsed, wasn't he?” O'Brien murmured from the background, voicing what they were all too afraid to put into being. He started fidgeting, if only to have a needed distraction.“...We need to find him.” His voice was uncharacteristically small.

After a moment of silence, however, he spun around to show that his face was red with rage. “We need to find him.” He shouted again, stronger this time, “He may be a chatty brat, but he's the best damn doctor I've ever met, and my little girl has a broken arm. I want the best to tend to her, and I won't settle for a second rate hack. She's scared, and she'll want a familiar face to take care of her.”

“Then it's settled.” There was no point in wasting any more time, and thus began to do what he did best: ordering people around. “O'Brien, keep tinkering. Jadzia, rest up, but as soon as you're able start doing damage control. Separate the patients based on injury, and tend to the most serious first until they're stabilized. Kira, find Odo and start digging out survivors and--”

“I'm on it.” She was out the door before he could finish his orders.

Funny, when he first arrived on the station the Major couldn't wait to cut him off. Perhaps that much hadn't changed, but now she was rushing to help him rather than evade him. Truly, he was touched by the fact his crew was all so in-sync with one another uttering out an order was hardly necessary.

But time was of the essence, and he couldn't afford to have any misunderstandings. Starfleet had a reason for chain of command, and it was one of the few issues he refused to budge on.

That being said, he'd normally frown on such behavior, but there simply wasn't time. They were all frantic at the thought of losing their head doctor at a time like this. And honestly? The station couldn't survive another casualty. They needed to find Dr. Bashir, and fast.

However, they'd done everything they could for the time being. The only thing left to do was wait, and quite frankly, it was his _least_ favorite part.

Sisko wasn't known for his patience, and lost his temper when it was better to be kept at times. Yet he'd wait, because that was all he could do.

He let out a sigh, feeling the strain of the situation for the first time. The fact of the matter was simple: the weight of a person's life was too heavy to hold in his hands alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Originally, he'd been surrounded by noise. How dreadful it had all been; the gnashing of teeth, the steady hum of prayers and desperate pleas. How awful it had been to hear it all, and not see a bit of it. Yet as the night grew long, their voices were drowned out by the roaring quiet. One by one they were lost in the night, and soon he could only hear his own labored breathing. Oh how he craved some form of noise, something other the creaking of the wreck on top of him.

He was met with no such relief.

Instead he was left with his thoughts, the excruciating pain that wracked his body, and the dark. He turned his gaze once more to the Bajoran child. Xione was still unconscious, sleeping, or otherwise impaired. As long as her chest kept rising and falling, he saw no reason to wake her just yet. Yet a part of him, a horribly, wretchedly human part of him wanted to stir her from her slumber. As long as she slept he'd have no one to converse with. He thought he could handle it, the quiet, but with each passing minute he realized how wrong he'd been After all, he couldn't handle it in _normal_ circumstances, let alone his current one. Above everything though, he was a doctor first. So he let her sleep, and muttered to himself like a mad man trying to keep himself sane.

He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. Of all the people who complained about his incessant chatter, Kira had to be the most bothered next to Chief O'Brien. If she could only see him now. He wondered if she'd laugh if she knew he was talking to hear the sound of his own voice.

As silly as it was, hearing himself speak brought him great comfort. As long as he could make sound, he was alive. It was for that very reason that he lived in fear of the quiet. Once the noise level dropped off he knew people were dying, or already dead.

So he talked, and talked, and talked, until his throat grew dry and his voice hoarse. He listed off all the machinery and their various components that were strewn around him, and delighted in the fact he recognized some of the parts O'Brien had pointed out to him. Then, when that got boring he began to list the probable properties of each item, such as how much they weighed, their dimensions and elements and the like. He found that the more problems and quizzes he came up with the more frustrated he got. What was the point if he couldn't cross-examine his answers?

Needless to say, he abandoned that form of entertaining himself.

The only thing worse was that he had no way of telling how long he'd been at it. That, and he was quickly running out of things to amuse himself with.

So he looked inward for more puzzles. What items around him could be use for medical supplies? What symptoms did he have, and how was he faring? There were always more questions than answers, but even then he forced himself to stop. It was becoming morbid, and there was nothing to be gained from working himself up.

Suddenly, there was a sputter of sound somewhere deep from the darkness that made his heart race. Could it be...?

_"Commander Sisko to Bashir. Bashir, are you there?”_

The transmission was fuzzy and sputtered at times, but God it felt good to hear a familiar voice, no matter how faint.

His free hand absentmindedly fumbled for where his comm badge would be; it had grown instinctual over his time on DS9. Immediately he felt a loss when his fingers brushed against nothing.

_“Bash---Can you hea---”_

Their voices grew faint, and he found himself shouting at the top of his lungs to make them stay. By this point he didn't care if he sounded half mad; he was desperate to get out. This may be the only shot he got at communicating with them, and he didn't intend to waste it. “I'm in the infirmary! Please, come get me!" The more static and garbled speech he heard the more plaintive he sounded, "Please, please find me. Please...”

After that there was nothing but radio silence.

They'd call again, right? Of course they'd call. Of course.

He tried to convince himself that the queasy feeling in his stomach would go away, but it only intensified when he realized he had no way of getting to the comm badge. He couldn't even look for it in this state.

Perhaps he could ask Xione to try and reach it; after all he seemed to recall her being fairly mobile. More so than he was, anyways. He turned his head to Xione again, taking note of how she hugged her knees. A chill came over him and he suddenly realized that--

Oh.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She was so young! She couldn't have been more than six years old.

She...she was so small.

All traces of fear or pain had been smoothed into a quiet expression of serenity. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was sleeping. How sweet and peaceful she looked.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, and look elsewhere. If he got out, he'd like to conduct an autopsy with her family’s permission; if there was any family left to talk to.

He'd really gotten himself into trouble this time, now hadn't he?

She was just out of reach, maybe he could just touch her arm, her hand, just take her pulse--

A sharp cry escaped from his lips as he tried to wiggle closer to her still form. The more he moved the more the pole dug into the wound, and finally he was too overcome with pain to move anymore.

He forced his eyes open wide, floundering, gasping for breath. He could feel his ribs pulling apart from the strain, and for a moment all he could focus on was the blinding pain ricocheting throughout his body. It was as if every cracked and broken part of him radiated with agony for one solid moment before finally dying down into a dull ache.

By the time he calmed down he was drenched in sweat, and a chill was starting to settle in. He felt tender and raw to the touch, chafing under his uniform as his body throbbed with discomfort. He was beyond exhaustion, and felt the necessity of sleep. Yet if he slept, would he wake? He couldn't help but take a quick peek at the girl's cooling body, before wrenching his eyes shut.

There was no use looking that way any longer.

God, when did becoming a doctor mean being surrounded by so much death? He knew that death and life were two sides of the same coin, but ever since he came aboard the station he’d seen more than he’d bargained for.

A wave of nausea passed over him. He wanted a chance to be a hero, to be in the action on the romantic frontier. In the end he'd gotten exactly what he'd asked for; he’d felt the rush of saving a life, working under the wire, chasing the trails of glory, but he’d also witnessed unspeakable horror. In the heat of the moment, there wasn't so much action as agonizing stillness of waiting for people to die. His naïveté left a bitter taste in his mouth.

However, given the chance to choose differently, he’d take the same path every time. The hands-on experience he’d gained was unlike any other, and it seemed that everyday brought forth a new challenge, a new illness, or a new procedure to learn. He'd take the brutal honesty he'd learn every time, even if it always led to him being buried alive with his demise hung above him like the sword of Damocles.

An involuntary groan escaped his lips once more. That's right, he needed to take his thoughts out of his head and put them into sound. He needed to keep talking, to keep making sound, even if it hurt. In his desperation he got a wild hair. For a moment he thought about singing to pass the time, and tarted to laugh, only to cause himself pain once more.

He'd never been able to carry a tune. Out of all his accomplishments, music was not one of them. If he started squawking now, he was sure he'd only be inflicting _more_ pain on the survivors.

As he came to his senses, his weariness returned with it. In all honesty, he was finding it difficult to keep going. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, if only for a moment. Staying awake meant fighting every impulse, every instinct that told him to take a moment to recoup. His resolve with weakening from fighting to stay awake, and trying to combat the shivers and cold that wracked his body. He was simply worn out from fighting death, and losing. This entire ordeal had just taken it out of him.

Surely it wouldn’t be so bad to sleep just a little, would it? He probably needed some shut eye to recover, anyways. Yet no matter how many times he tried to prepare himself, apart of him still feared he wouldn’t wake up no matter how much he talked himself down.

He knew could only avoid the inevitable for so long. At some point he _would_ fall asleep, whether he liked it or not.

After taking one last lingering look at Xione, he finally shut his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken some time, but communications were finally up. However as they listened to the static from Bashir's com badge, any hopes they had were quickly dashed.

They all sat in silence, dumbstruck by how uncharacteristically quiet it was on the other end.

“His pin could have gotten knocked off, you know.” O'Brien muttered.

Sisko let out a deep sigh, choosing his words with great caution. Things were not looking good for Bashir, and while he didn't want to lose faith he needed to start preparing them all for the worst. He finally settled on a simple response, but was careful to keep his tone flat. “It could have.”

“We can still track him. Even if the pin got dislodged, it should still give us a relative location.” Jadzia folded her hands together, her expression pensive. At least the color had turned to her cheeks somewhat. Any moment she would probably be well enough to walk, and get herself checked out before heading back into the fray. “It's our best shot.”

O'Brien didn't even give him a chance to reply. “She's got a point and sir, if you don't mind me saying, we could really use some help around here. My boys are doing all they can as far as engineering goes, but a few medics would put our minds at ease.”

Sisko quickly cut in. “Thank you for your input, O'Brien, but I've been trying to get through to the Bajoran Embassy since communications went up. Our relief depends on when they find it convenient to pick up their end of the transmission.”

O'Brien mumbled a few curses under his breath, and wrenched a piece of tubing off with more force than necessary. Sisko could relate to his frustration. The balance of the station laid in the hands of the ambassador he was trying to reach. They all waited in the tense silence, counting the seconds that passed by until a familiar face popped up on screen. The Chief attempted to give him some degree of privacy, but Jadzia made no secret of her interests in the matter.

“Commander Sisko, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?” The woman on the screen had a polite smile on her face, but her eyes scanned him with skepticism.

He immediately recognized the woman as Ambassador Keru, and responded accordingly.“Deep Space Nine is in critical condition.” He didn't see the point of beating around the bush; time was of the essence. “There's been an incident and our infirmary collapsed. Most of our emergency relief team is under rubble, and we're in need of urgent care. Could Bajor send aid?”

The ambassador's face was quick to wrinkle with worry, and a tight frown settled over her features as she digested the information. “An accident? What kind of an accident.”

“We're not entirely sure yet---”

“So you're telling me, to send _my_ people, to _your_ station, which has just had a major accident? Oh and, you don't know what caused it? So if you were under fire, right now, or in an asteroid belt, you wouldn't know?”

“Well when you put it like that--”

“The answer is _no_ , Commander. Honestly, do you think Bajor can just risk it's people like that? ” She furrowed her brow.

“This is not just a request from me, Ambassador. This is on behalf of the Federation, and Bajorans alike. Or are the residents here no longer your subjects because they're not on Bajoran soil?”

Her tone was sharp, “Now look here, Commander---”

“Either you help your people, regardless of where they are, or you abandon them. So tell me, Ambassador, what is your reply?”

Her face was turning redder by the second. Keru had always had a quick temper, even with her own people. “Don't toy with me, Sisko. You may be the Emissary, but you're not mine. It's my duty to keep my people safe, and I can't have them gallivanting across the galaxy every time there's trouble.” She paused in her tirade, gritting her teeth. “However, you have a point, no matter how much it pains me to say it. A Bajoran will always be Bajoran regardless of where his journey takes him.” She mad a desperate attempt to compose herself, but it only exacerbated her rage. “Once you've gotten the space ways clear and the station is stable enough I'll send five medics, and not a person more! Until you have further proof, that is all I'm willing to spare. But mark my words Sisko, if any harm befalls them, I'm blaming you _personally_. I hope you think twice before addressing me in such a manner again.”

“I thank you for your most generous contribution, Ambassador Keru. But I should remind you this is the speech of a desperate man.” He folded his hands behind himself in a proper military fashion, careful to keep his composure. He could feel Jadzia and O'brien staring holes into his back.

That seemed to appease her, and she gave a stoic nod. “Well, let's hope you never become desperate enough to disrespect me again, Commander.” She crossed her arms. “End transmission.”

The screen flickered off. He was always known for having a bit of a temper, but he liked to think that it saved his people this time around. He had no doubt that one day, he'd go too far.

But today was not that day.

Ambassador Keru was a tough woman, but he had a grudging respect for her hard ways. She was one of the few secular government officials still in office. However, Bajor was becoming increasingly religious under Kai Winn, and there were fewer places left for those who were not. In spite of it all, Keru had stuck to her guns this far. Whether or not she'd be able to continue in such a manner was food for thought. With the way she'd been handling her policies as of late, he knew her days were numbered.

Another issue for another day, perhaps. Right now he had bigger problems on his plate.

Before he knew it O'Brien was sending nervous glances over his shoulder at him, and was quick to pry, “Well? What'd they say?” He hadn't paused in his work, but he was clearly eager for a response. 

“They'll send five medics.”

“Five? Why the--”

Jadzia cut in, reasonable as ever. “I don't like it either, but it's better than what we have now.” She turned her attention back to him. “Commander, I think I'm ready for my next assignment now.”

“Good. Round up as many healthy people as you can, and portion out the help. I want you personally in charge of the rescue team digging the people out of the rubble.”

“I hear you loud and clear.” She wasted no time in getting out the door.

Sisko let out a sigh, slowly taking up the baseball back in his hand. All of his people were in the field. He turned to the last remaining member of his crew. “How are Keiko and Molly? Are they alright?”

He gave a solemn nod, “They were on their way back to their quarters. I'm not sure if it would have been safer there or not, but thank God they weren't killed. Molly broke her arm when she fell, but over than that they're fine. At least, as fine as they can be in this situation.” A dry, humorless chuckle escaped as he shook his head. “A fine welcome home they got. Perhaps it would have been better if they'd stayed a little longer on their expedition. I cant' believe it's safer out there than it is here.” Another tired sigh. He looked exhausted. “I hope someone can see to Molly's arm soon. ”

“You mean you hope Bashir can see to her soon."

“Of course. He knows Molly the best, sir.”

He idly tossed the ball back and forth between his hands before gently setting it down on the table. “He knows all of his patients like the back of his hand.”

“Aye, sir. That he does.”

They couldn't afford to lose Julian. Whether it was because they didn't have the time to break in a new head doctor, or because they'd all become fond of him he didn't know.

Any way he saw it, Bashir was too precious to lose.


	5. Chapter 5

Bashir shifted uneasily as he dozed. He was caught between a state of wakefulness and sleep, exhausted beyond the possibility of rest. Yet he tried anyways, despite how uncomfortable he was.

He'd given up trying to figure out what day it was, and the longer he was stuck the less optimistic his prospects became. Reality didn't give him much room to hope. He was in bad shape to begin with, but his health worsened with the passage of time.

By now people surely noticed his absence. Maybe they'd even heard about the accident, and were on their way. He didn't know, but he wasn't feeling optimistic. It was a bit hard to be chipper about things with a pole lodged through his shoulder. 

He snorted a little. Now that was dark humor at it's finest.

His attention was turned elsewhere by a voice calling out in the distance. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, but it didn't sound like it came from the poor bastards trapped alongside him. He entertained the thought a moment, before purging the idea from his system. At most, it could have been his badge going off again, but he was not in a state to make decent reply. Not that they would be able to hear him anyways; his vocal cords were shredded from yelling, and what little noise he could make sounded absolutely terrible. When he did try to speak it sounded more like he was gargling gravel and glass rather than words. 

His stomach growled. A sharp pain of hunger tore through him, and he found himself in want of food, water, and warmth. It was better he keep away from such subjects, for wishing for such luxuries would only weaken his resolved.

Perhaps a change in position would do him some good; take his mind off of things. Maybe even help him sleep.

He attempted to shift, only to have a white hot pain rip right through him again. Dammit, he'd done this exact same thing an hour ago. How he kept forgetting that his body couldn't be moved that way, he didn't know. Usually he remembered the lessons that caused him pain.

At least he kept them in mind while he repeated the same mistakes.

Dammit he was going to keep doing this, wasn't he?

He let out a sigh. Any trace of sleep was long gone by now, but he still refused to open his eyes. This was as close to restful he'd get.A shudder ran through him, realizing he was _still_ cold, and somehow, even more tired. Being awake was torture, and whatever snatches of rest he could get were a less painful reprieve. He was exhausted physically and mentally, and running on fumes.

Somehow he'd managed to get a little sleep, although it didn't amount to much. His sleep dept was already staggering, and this just put him over the edge. He could sleep for days and still be behind. He tried to focus on his labored breathing, which had only grown more ragged. His head felt a little light, and so he tried to take in deep lungfuls of air. It helped some, but he couldn't help but worry over just _what_ he'd been breathing in this entire time.

Oh God, he hadn't even thought that far, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. 

Unfortunately, his body was wired and ready for whatever punishment the day had to offer him. Any chance for shut-eye had long passed. Slowly he opened his eyes, and began blinking away the garish white glow of station lights above him. Apparently they had started working again in his semi-comatose state, and he'd never been happier for them. Normally he hated the fake electric glow and the gloomy atmosphere they created, but now they were like a beacon from heaven itself. 

He'd greeted the day, now what? Would he continue to pick random topics to pass the time with? Was there anything else to do?

After a moment of thought he decided that, no, there really wasn't. It was a heavy heart that he mulled over previous topics from the day before.

What venue of thought was left to pick at? He'd gone over all the bones in the body of several humanoid species, and listed the parts of some that didn't. He then listed off several species that _didn't_ have bones, and their rightful parts. He'd depleted the easy naming games in the medical field, as well as tennis. Anything more complex he'd be itching to elaborate upon with all of his books, research, and whatever else that was now the ash around him.

Well wasn't that a cheery thought.

On the bright side, anyone who was left to listen was learning quite a bit from his jabbering. Unfortunately, it brought him little cheer. It wasn't enough to keep him from dying from boredom.

He cringed.

Poor choice of words, perhaps.

Great, now his stomach was growling again. He wasn't sure which was harder to keep his mind off of: the cold, the hunger, the thirst, or the pain. 

Somehow, he'd grit his teeth and bear it. Somehow.

Perhaps he should start going over what little Kardasi he knew.

Just as he was sounding out the basics vowel structures, he heard a sound. Well, that wasn't specific enough. He was surrounded by sound, from the roaring quiet to softest of groans. This, this was different. This noise sounded alive, sounded like a chance, sounded like _healthy people_. It was faint, but it caused his heartbeat to quicken. 

He couldn't afford to be quiet any longer. He shouted, yelled, screamed, made every noise that he could think of. He couldn't handle spending another minute more than he had to with Xione's corpse.

Above, he heard a person speak, “Did you hear something?” There was a moment of silence, and he feared they had left him all together.

They needed to go back for him. Please, turn back for him. Turn back. He realized he was already hoarse, and the screaming just came out as desperate, raw squawks.

Apparently, he hadn't been dreaming earlier. How unfortunate for him.

Another voice joined the first,“We already have a lot of wounded, and that's just from skimming off the tops of the piles. We haven't even started digging. We can't afford to go back.” The second voice was irritated. Lower, a man's perhaps.

“But I heard something.” The first one was higher, more boyish.

Please, please, go back.

After a pause, the first voice spoke again. “I'm going back. You get them the help they need.”

He would have cried if he felt he had it in him, but even then it was doubtful. If they didn't find him now...

“Doctor Bashir?!”

A dark face, far, far above him blocked out the light. All he could do was limply raise his head. “You found me.” It was weak, and he wasn't even sure the younger man heard him.

Somehow he was okay with that.

“Oh my God, it's you, isn't it? You've been missing for two days!”

He quickly recovered. “It might be longer if you don't get me out soon.” At least his sarcasm was still intact. He was beginning to think that was the _only_ thing left intact.

“Right, right, of course.” The med student looked away a moment in complete disbelief. He heard him quietly murmur, “Holy shit, I found Doctor Bashir. He's still alive. Holy shit.”

Then, he was gone.

Bashir could only keep his cool a minute or so before the panic set in. He didn't want to be left alone again. Humans were social creatures, and Bashir was a _very_ social creature. He'd been alone for a day, possibly two now with only a dead body for company. He was desperate to have the med student stay.

“Wait, no, come back.” He croaked, flinching at the sound of his own voice. Not so smooth anymore huh, Garak? He reached out helplessly, but his hand soon fell useless at his side.

What if they couldn't find him again? What if they weren't coming back?

Shit, shit, just _breathe_ , Julian.

He tried to take deep lungfuls of air, but only cried out in pain. The status of his ribs hadn’t improved.

Then, there was a terrible sound of twisting metal. It was oppressively loud, and he scrambled to cover his ears with little avail. It was all around him, deafening, closing in. Was this what it felt like to be claustrophobic? Surrounded, with no way out?

The awful noise stopped, but it only welcomed a more bone-chilling sound.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Something had spilled, and considering this was—-had been-- the infirmary it couldn't be anything good.

“Are you still there Doctor Bashir?” The head popped back into view.

“I'm pinned. I can't exactly go anywhere else, can I?” He was hasty to add, “Which might prove to be rather nasty later on, because I think something just broke.” Apparently being starved for two days did nothing for his mood.

Somehow his rescuer found the ability to laugh, but it was tinged with nervousness. “Broke?”

“Yes, broke, smashed open, cracked, do you want other words for the action of possibly _leaking toxic sludge near my body_?”

“...Shit. That's not good.”

“No. No it's not.”

“We'll get you out as soon as we can.” A pause, “At least you've got some spark left? I mean, that's always a good sign, right?”

He ignored that last bit.

“How did you find me?” He tried to tune out the ominous sound of liquid pouring into the dark.

“Well it wasn't easy, that's for sure. First we had to get everything back up and running--”

“Yes I can see that. The light just came on.”

“Right, well, we tried to track you through your com-badge but since you hadn't picked up earlier the higher-ups figured it must have gotten dislodged or something.”

For the first time in what felt like days, he smiled. So some of them had made it out after all. He'd kiss them all, even O'Brien, if he got out of this in one piece.

“What's your status, Doctor?”

He attempted to lick his lips, but he found them dry as sandpaper. Not a good sign. “I've been impaled through the shoulder, and appears to have missed subclavian, and in between the transverse cervical artery and the suprascapular. It appears that everything important is still intact. The fifth and sixth ribs appeared to be cracked, along with a broken clavicle. Of course, I also seem to be dehydrated, generally uncomfortable. Possibly more damage upon further examination, but over all status: not good.”

The young man made a note of it on his PADD. “I'll be right back, I promise. I just have to report to Odo.”

He let out a sound of protest, but it fell on deaf ears. Once again he was left to his own devices, but he took comfort in the fact that Odo as alive. Without Odo there would be no order amongst the chaos. At least now they had a fighting chance at neutralizing the damage. The Constable would keep things under control, and would work to get people out with maximum efficiency.

A hiss drew his attention back to his left where he had been avidly avoiding. The sight he was met with made his stomach churn. Liquid had alread pooled around Xione's small frame, sizzling as it hit her skin.

Chemicals.

His first instinct was to get away as far and fast as possible, but with a pole in his shoulder there was little he could do. All he could do now was look on in horror as the chemicals slowly crept their way to him. That would be his luck, wouldn't it? Just when someone found him, his rescuers would knock over a vat of chemicals trying to reach him. Chemical burns were such a nasty, painful way to go. 

Either way, his fate was sealed. The substance would reach him no matter what, so he tried to mentally prepare himself for the worst. It was a half-hearted attempt, because nothing he imagined would help him cope with the sickening smell of melting flesh or the searing pain about to engulf his body. The only hope he had now was that the chemicals were closer to neutral, or that he'd be fished out before he was too disfigured and mangled to survive. Normally his Starfleet uniform would have provided an extra layer to eat through, but his clothes were already in tatters and provided little to no protection from the elements, much less acid. At least he had some protection though. Xione was even worse off. Had she been alive, she would have been in unbearable agony.

Perhaps it was better that she had passed when she did: peacefully, and quietly.

His skin crawled as he watched. It was like a science experiment, watching the acid lick at her skin. God, this was more like torture. What did he do to deserve this? To watch the patient he couldn't save be devoured before his eyes

The ooze of chemicals crawled towards him, slowly rolling closer inch by inch, before it finally made contact.

It _burned_.

He hadn't realized he was yelling until both the lab assistant _and_ Odo came running.

“Doctor Bashir!” 

He'd never been so thankful to hear a familiar voice.

“C-CHEMICALS!” It was the only thing he could choke out before letting out another howl of pain. It was spreading quickly, and pooling around his good arm. He shuddered as what should happen if it reached his injured shoulder.

They bickered above him a moment.

“If I changed shapes I could get a better idea of what's going on--”

“Sir, I don't think we have time for that! We need to get him out as fast as possible!”

“But I can help him if you'd only let me---”

“Sir, the longer we stand here arguing the worse off he gets. Please, just help me dig him out.”

Surprisingly, Odo had no counterargument. Instead, he heard them begin to shovel off rubble. Little by little, cracks of light began to pierce through the wreckage.

Of course he was too focused was on the gut-wrenching, mind-blowing pain to really care. All he could think of was the chemicals slowly eating away at his uniform and skin. The fact that it hadn't rendered his flesh beyond a state of repair gave him some hope. It didn't seem to be overtly acidic or base, but it was enough to burn him alive.

After a certain point, he stopped trying to quiet himself. The agony he experienced was all too much. It scrambled his brain, clouded his vision, and it was the only thing he could think about. Every thought in his head was about the blinding pain, how the chemicals licked up his torso, and were slowly frying and boiling his own skin.

“Do-Don't touch me, I'm covered in chemicals!” He gasped. Any attempt at speech was futile, for he could barely utter a word between his clenched teeth. So he just kept repeating the same word over and over again: chemicals.

Finally he stopped flopping around. It was only causing the liquid to splash and spread to unaffected areas. He was sure he'd be lying in a lake similar to Xione, before too long.

There were only bursts of pain. No thoughts, no speech. Just explosions of color and agony blowing up like stars and dotting his vision. Nothing mattered anymore. Not survival, not his friends. All he wanted was to get away from the searing, the burning the...

Light.

There was light.

His hearing was muffled, and his vision was blinded by the light pouring in above him. There was so much light, it hurt, it burned, it scalded, scorched--

Which was the light and which was the chemicals?

A deep hum, a voice perhaps, stirred him from his madness. It seemed familiar, comforting.

“Chem...chemicals..” He croaked, “Chem...”

He didn't think a person could be in so much pain.

Could he feel anything else?

There was just pain.

Just pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Agonizing _pain_.

Light. He felt light. That wasn't right. He should be trapped, and heavy, so heavy.

He wasn't dying was he?

So tired. 

Hum of voices.

Then finally, sweet silence.

Then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a huge gap between updates! I've been editing this like crazy, but I've also been quite preoccupied with real life stuff. That, and it takes time to research stuff. You wouldn't believe the amount of research I have put into this. I can say one thing: I am the furthest thing from a doctor, and it shows.


	6. Chapter 6

The hum of the machine seemed loud in comparison to Bashir's labored breathing.

Sisko looked down at the motionless form of his head doctor, unnerved by the raspy wheezing emitting from his battered frame.  
The man was lucky to be alive. He’d been buried roughly two days without food or drink, and without aid for his injuries. How could things have gotten that bad on under this watch? On _his_ station? The entire ordeal had left him lost for words. He looked at the new skin forming over the old burns, causing him to wince.   
He let out a weary sigh, but it didn't come close to the exhaustion he felt deep in his bones. Slowly, he stretched his muscles one by one. He’d been wandering in the make-shift infirmary awhile now. He knew that there were more pressing matters to attend to, but he found himself rooted to the spot.

There was a time for words, and a time for action. A time for doing and a time for resting. For now, he would be still.

However, if he was going to stay any longer, it would be in his best interest to sit. What little sleep he’d gotten hadn’t been particularly restful, and his back was killing him. He drew up a chair, and looked on with tired eyes. Perhaps he could figure out where to go next. The big crisis had passed, and the only thing left to do was to pick up the pieces.

In the background a few medics lingered about, chatting casually with one another. They too, were sitting back on their heels, waiting with unease for the next hoop to jump through. He listened to them for a few seconds, but with all the medical jargon they threw around, he quickly found himself in a haze. The two quickly became muffled voices in the backdrop, senseless noise to distract from the reality of the situation.

A gentle tap on his shoulder caused him to spin around.

Kira looked just as startled as he was by his quick response. “Commander?”

“Yes, Major?” He relaxed a little. It was just Kira coming in to check up on Bashir. How she’d gotten through, he’d never know. So far he'd kept every out until he was given the okay to let people through, but knowing Kira, she probably bullied her way in.

He had to chuckle at that.

“Something funny?”

“No, not particularly. Just had an amusing thought, that’s all.” He cleared his throat, “How are things out there?”

She straightened into the proper stance, folding her arms behind her back. “Not good, but certainly better than they were. Those medics were a god-send. Be sure to thank Bajor.”

“Oh, I already have. In fact, I just finished talking with them thirty minutes ago. We've gone a full day without having another incident, and the Ambassador has deemed it safe enough to send reinforcements.”

“Really.” She rose an eyebrow, “What did you have to pull to sway Ambassador Keru's mind?”

“...Ambassador Keru has been... _dismissed_. A follower of Kai Winn, Larz I believe, has taken her stead.”

A sickly pallor came over the Major. There was no love lost between the Kai and Kira. “I suppose her loss is our gain.”

They turned their attention back to Bashir. Somehow the doctor still managed to look peaceful despite his great suffering. Perhaps that's what made it worse. After a beat Sisko answered, “I suppose it is.”

It was true that Ambassador Keru often disagreed with him, and that she had stopped his plans repeatedly in the past, but she also had a head for negotiations like no other. In fact, her style had reminded him of Kurzon somewhat: ruthless, and deliberate in every action. In a different time perhaps, she would have been celebrated for those qualities. But these were not such times. 

Having one of the Kai's pawns in a government setting was worrying, but he'd have to wrestle with that issue later. Right now he needed to be thankful for what had transpired, despite the potential consequences. It was unfortunate, but the sacrifice had gotten his people the help they desperately needed.  
After a moment of silence, Kira spoke, meeting his gaze with a silent vigor. “I know you don’t like it, but being the Emissary has its perks. If anyone else had asked, we may not have gotten the help we needed.”

To that, he said nothing.

She took his silence for an answer, and continued on with the conversation. “I can’t believe he was buried for so long.” Kira whispered, no longer standing beside him, but at the doctor's bedside. “In the mines I'd see cave-ins happen all the time. If we got the people out in time we were lucky.” She looked over her shoulder, “This was a miracle, and I will thank the Prophets for bringing him back to us.” She gently took his hand in hers, and placed a kiss upon it before settling it back down into the sheets. “Has there been any word on the Bajoran girl that was next to him?”

Ahh, the Bajoran girl. They pulled her out of the rubble as well, but she’d passed on long before. Days had since passed, but no one had come forward to claim the body. By now the family would have heard and at least come looking, and thus, he assumed she had none to speak of. It was hard to imagine that any child could be so alone in the world, even in death. However, it also meant that no one had to see her current state. A day of decomposition and acid had not been kind to her physical state. No loved one would be able to stomach her current condition, or the thought of what happened to her.

In the end their only hope is that Bajor would take back one of their own. At least then she someone would care for her.

Rubbing his temples, Sisko finally responded. “I'm afraid not. You'll have to ask Bashir when he wakes up.”

“If he wakes up.” She mumbled darkly under her breath.

“He'll be up within a few hours, I'm sure. Has some faith, Kira.” In actuality, Bashir hadn't been out long all things considered. Between the dehydration, the pain, and the sleep deprivation he had a lot to recover from. Still, it was never good when someone was unconscious. Yet he had faith that the young doctor would bounce back in no time. Quite frankly, Bashir was too stubborn to go out with a whimper like that.

Still, she wasn’t convinced. She sent an uneasy look his way. “I’m not sure I have any faith left, sir. I used what little I had to bring him home. But if you say so, Commander. I'm going to hold you to those words. But I will light a lamp for the little girl. That _is_ something I can do, and she deserves someone to mourn for her.” She took one last fleeting glance at Bashir, before he badge went off.

“Odo to Kira, we could use an extra set of hands on the bridge.”

“On my way.” She bowed her head towards her superior officer, before making her exit.

He should follow suit as well, but he was reluctant to leave just yet. They had been most fortunate to get Bashir back, but they weren’t out the woods yet.  
He tapped his fingers nervously on the bed railing before smiling to himself. They stilled as he finally the proper words finally came to mind. Perhaps now, he could leave with a clear conscious. 

“As much as you'd enjoy me mooning by your beside all day, I still have duties to attend to.” He gave a quiet, sad laugh. “...I do hope you join us soon, Doctor. You are missed.”

He didn't bother look behind him. If they were lucky, a lab tech would keep them posted on his condition.

All they could do now, was wait. Sometimes it felt like that was all they were doing now a days; just wait for the other shoe to drop.

He rubbed his temples a bit. All of this was giving him a headache. Best to take his leave now before the pain it came to fruition. With that, he passed through the doors, leaving the doctor behind.


	7. Chapter 7

He opened his eyes.

No wait, that was right.

He actually _opened his eyes_.

Everything was overwhelmingly bright, his head heavy, and his thoughts sluggish. He felt so slow, but his instincts were still sharp. The first thing he wanted to do was panic. He couldn't see well, and for a moment he still feared that he was still trapped.

He whipped his head to the right, but there was nothing. No little girl, no shrapnel, nothing.

Finally, he began to realize _just_ where he'd ended up.

The soft beep of machinery was familiar, comforting even. He recognized it immediately from the infirmary, which only confused him more. His head shifted listlessly from side to side, taking in his surroundings.

It looked like they were in a make shift ward. He recognized the room as one of the unused offices. It wasn't ideal, but it was far away from the blast site and it was tidy. Really he was just thankful it was clean.

He let out a soft sigh, breath hitching with pain.

Apparently he'd been separated from the other patients. He knew there were more just by the sound of rustling from the other side of the white curtain. Why wasn't he with the others?

One glance at himself and he instantly knew why.

They didn't want his body viewed to the public; a good portion of his body was covered in fresh bandages. They must have been changed recently.

It all came back to him like a freight train slamming into him. He let out a soft moan, overcome by the sudden onslaught of pain. It was much duller, thankfully, but it was all but forgotten.

Before he knew it the curtain was ripped open. “You're...You're awake!” The lab tech adjusted her lapels, filled with nervous excitement. “We didn't expect you to wake up for another day or so. I don't know how, but you're doing so much better than we expected!” Her voice was so warm, and she seemed so excited that Bashir might have mistaken her for a life long friend.

“You have visitors waiting, so let me just check a few things and...”

He honestly stopped paying attention after she said visitors. Perhaps it was a combination of the painkillers and exhaustion but he was almost giddy with excitement at the thought of seeing his friends. He still didn't know if everyone was okay, or if anyone had been injured. Chances were that a good portion of them were in the makeshift ward as well.

He was determined to think of nothing but their smiling faces as the tech poked and prodded, tested and charted every result. By the time she was done he was feeling faint.

“I'm very happy to announce that the hypospray was able to get the worst of the burns. Thank the Prophets they found you when they did. Unfortunately, you'll have a few scars but they won't be half as back as they could have been. Maybe with a few treatments they'll disappear over time.”

Oh joy. Lucky him.

“We're a bit understaffed, and we're running low on supplies. I'll keep an eye on you, but now that you're stable I'm going to focus my attention elsewhere. Besides, you're a doctor right? You should know when something feels awry.”

He swallowed nervously, “Right.” He was still hoarse, and they were both taken aback by the rough timber of his voice. 

“Well that settles it then. Do you want me to let your visitors in?”

“Please.”

“Alright Bashir, I'll be back in a few hours to see how you're faring.” She exited, leaving him to his lonesome.

But not for long.

Kira was the first to storm into the room. “You're alive! You're awake!” She broke out into a full on grin, and came to his bedside. Her hands were restless, first falling on the rail, then to her sides, then back behind her. 

“Are all of you this jumpy? I swear.” He offered a weak smile.

“You can't blame us. You almost died on us.”

“I'd like to think it takes a little more than that to kill me.” How good it was to see her. She looked tired, but radiant despite the dark circles under her eyes. However his gaze fell upon a cut that had recently been stitched up on her forehead. “Kira, You have a—” He raised his hand to touch, but she swatted him away. “You can fuss over everyone later. We just need you to get better, okay?”

“I'm a doctor, and I will worry as much as I like.” That made her expression darken, so he quickly added, “But I'll take it easy for as long as I can manage. So an hour?”

“Bashir!”

“I'm kidding of course. I don't think I could even get out of bed if I wanted to. You'll have to be my eyes and ears.” He went silent a moment, his mind wandering. “So tell me, how many injured are there? What happened?”

The Major shook her head. “There are too many wounded to count. Jadzia is pretty scuffed up, and I'm a little bruised, but we're no more worse for wear. We're not entirely sure what happened, but whatever went off was planted in the infirmary.”

“That's what doesn't make sense to me. Why target the already sick and dying?” He let out a deep sigh, shutting his eyes a moment.

“It doesn't make any sense to me either. That's why we have Odo on the case as soon as everyone has been rescued.” She pulled up a chair beside him. “You got really lucky, Bashir.”

“Luck? Nonsense.”

“I'm serious. When they brought you in everyone thought you were already dead. Thankfully, it just turned out you were _filthy_. Apparently mucking around in grime makes you look terrible.” She snorted, as if painfully familiar with the concept. “Not that you weren't bad off to begin with.” She was furrowing her brows again. It made all the worry lines in her pretty face stand out. He didn't want to see her stress when she had such a long day ahead of her. He gently touched her arm. 

This brought her out of her thoughts, and she stared at him wide eyed.

“I'll be fine. Promise. I'm tougher than I look.”

She gave him a long, hard stare, before swallowing down emotion and looking away. “I'm sorry to ask this, but I need to know about the little girl next to you.”

“Little girl?”

“She was already dead when we pulled her out. No one has claimed her body, and we have no identification for her. We were hoping you could tell us who she was or if she had any family.”

He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. The stench of death filled his nostrils in mere memory. Out of all people, Kira would understand the most. After all, the woman had the ghosts of a lost generation to haunt her and more.

It was for that exact reason he felt no need to burden her with his own. So instead he kept quiet, mentally processing the images of gore and death he laid within inches of. He knew that the nurse's bathed him and that he was spotless, but he still felt dirty. Even know, he could feel the scrape of imaginary dirt under his nails, and the eyes of a lost little girl staring into his back. He suspected that he'd always feel her big innocent eyes boring into him when he least expected it.

But these were his demons, and they could torment him later. He wouldn't waste Kira's precious time.

So he shut his eyes, and took a deep shaky breath. His ribs stung.  
“Xione. Her name was Xione. I don't know whether she had any other family, but her mother died in the same accident. I doubt you'll find anything more than her arm.”

“Wait how do you--” She stopped mid sentence, a look of horror taking hold of her. “Bashir..I'm..I'm--”

He raised a hand to silence her. There was little they could do for the dead. “It's fine. Just ask what you need to know.”

She stared at him long and hard, before proceeding. “Did she mention anything else. Anything at all?”

“Unfortunately, that's it. She just told me her name, and that her mother was dead. I couldn't get anything else out of her before she...she...”

Why was it so hard to say? He'd seen people die before. Hell, he'd held the hands of dying men before. Death was no stranger to his profession, and yet he found himself unable to find the words to describe Xione's permanent condition.

“It's okay Bashir.” Kira whispered with a tenderness he thought uncommon for her. It made him realize that there was a lot of things he didn't know about Kira. He knew her to be kind from time to time, but never tender. It unnerved him, and he found himself spilling secrets, words, thoughts he had never meant to share.

“It's just...in any other situation she would have lived. I don't understand.”

“You can't know that for sure.”

“As a doctor I feel like I have more knowledge on the subject, and I can say with good faith that in most circumstances she could have been saved. Why good came out of her death? It was slow, painful, and cruel.” All he could remember was the girl from his childhood fading away when she was surrounded by the cure. How was it that no matter how much he learned, he could never stop history from repeating itself?

"I don't know what the prophets would want with a child. I don't know why they do a lot of things. It's not always up to us to question their ways."

"But what purpose did her death have? It...it could have been so easily prevented."

"Perhaps it was to show each of us our own limitations."

"Are you seriously suggesting that because the prophets are always right, it's okay for a child to die in such an awful terrifying manner?"

Oh she was getting mad now. Her eyes were taking on the familiar crazed look, and her forehead was pinched in irritation. But he couldn't stop running his mouth.

“Julian, that's not what I'm saying at all. I'm simply giving a reason, but one way or the other you'll have to live with it. It won't be the last dead child you see."

“No. No I suppose your right.” Finally, he calmed down. “I'm sorry Kira.” A deep, sigh escaped from him. “I don't even know why it's bothering me this bad. She wasn't the first girl I've seen die, or the first patient that should have lived. That's just everyday life. I don't understand why I find myself so affected.”

She let out a chuckle.

“What? What's so amusing.”

“You. You know Julian, for someone so smart you can be rather...dull.”

“Oh? And do tell me, how rather dull I am.”

“I don't mean any offense by it. Really it makes you more human I suppose.”

Those words hit him, and he found himself both troubled and moved by them. 

“It makes sense that you'd be so affected. She helped keep you alive, Julian. I refuse to think of her death as pointless, because without her you might not have stayed sane.”

“...That's true. If I had gone a few more hours without human contact, I really might have lost it.”

“Of course. You need someone to talk at, don't you?” He heard the teasing in her voice, and he found himself giving a weak smile.

“You've been through a lot today.” She paused, “But don't make snapping at me a habit. My grace can only go so far.”

“I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You're so much more approachable when you're like this.” Oh blast it, he'd done it again. The irritated quirk of her brows returned.

“And what is, 'like this'? Were you going to say 'friendly'?”

“...You know, I may have some brain damage. Yes, that must be it.”

“Bashir.” She hissed out.

Oh that was never a good sound. He tentatively answered her, “Yes?”

“Don't make me _give_ you brain damage.”  
“Of course. I _am_ in a rather fragile state, I have no doubt that you could. Did I make the mistake of talking too much?”

She shot him a look. “What do you think?”

“Hmm. I believe the answer is 'always'.”

“Right.”

Her irritated exterior melted somewhat. “Hang on.” She parted from him to lift the curtain ever so slightly. She came back with a small smile. “It's O'Brien. I better let him in, he's not known for being patient.”

“Is it sad that I'm torn between being touched and terrified at the fact he's here?”

“Oh, I don't blame you. You're going to get an ear full.”

“Doesn't he know not to yell at the sick?”

“I think that will only make him yell louder.”

He grimaced. “You're probably right.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips. She deserved a good laugh after a day like this. Yet the added years came back within seconds, the stress creeping back into every worry line. 

As prepared to step across the threshold, he stopped her. “Kira?”

“Yes, Bashir?”

“Thank you. I'm glad you stopped by.”

“Of course doctor.” She hesitated a moment, “Maybe, when you're feeling better, we can transport Xione to Bajor and send her off properly.”

“I'd like that, Nerys. I'd like that a lot.”

She gave a small nod, and parted from him.

He wasn't given a second to prepare himself when O'Brien, red faced and shaking with emotion, tore back the curtain. “You stupid son-of-a--”

“Shhh, not so loud O'Brien!” He winced at the volume.

“My Molly had to go to some lab technician, Bashir. A _lab_ technician.”

“Wait, hold on, why is that a bad thing? And what's wrong with Molly?”

Instead he ignored him, continuing at his current tempo. The more he yelled the more he shook, but there was no mistaking the dampness in his eyes. “My Molly had a broken arm, and do you know how many times she kept asking for you? 'Where's Doctor Julian, daddy? Where's Julian'? And for the first time in my life, I couldn't answer her. I couldn't comfort my own child.”

“I don't see how that's my fault—”

“That's not the point! Don't you _ever_ make my kid have to go to another doctor, Bashir.” 

He has such a strange way of showing his affection. “Are you trying to say that you trust me with your child, perhaps as a friend even?”

“No! Not at all, I'm saying you're the best for my kid and I don't want some stranger handling her.”

He had to laugh at that. “I..I do enjoy my time with Molly. I just wish it was on better terms.” A wicked thought passed through his mind. “Oh God, is this the part where you hug me, O'Brien?” He couldn't say that deep down he was vibrating from excitement. After all, Molly _did_ tell him that her father gave the best hugs on the station. It was only logical that he follow up on the query.

“No, you idiot. Why would I do that? You have cracked ribs for cryin' out loud!” He not so stealthily wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“But it would make me feel better. A lot better, in fact. I am _so_ very tired, after all.”

O'Brien was silent. He looked extremely torn from the idea of having to hug him. “Let me get this straight--- are you, are you honestly asking me to _hug_ you?”

“I feel like everyone else on the station has been gifted with these grand fatherly hugs. I feel like it's time I got my turn.”

“Not Quark. Garak. Or Rom. Or Nog. Or Sisko. Hell, every person on this damn station outside my own family has never had the likes of an O'Brien hug, and I plan to keep it that way. It's a treasure I only share with my girls.”

He couldn't help but pout. If nearly dying wouldn't get him a fabled O'Brien hug, nothing would. “Stingy.”

The engineer threw up his hands, and stormed out of the room grumbling underneath his breath, “I can't believe I was worried about that idiot.”

Bashir leaned back in his bed, letting out a content sight. “It's nice to know O'Brien is alright. Same ol' grumpy.”

He settled back down into the sheets, slowly winding down. Now if he could only get someone to bring him his labs. A few scans wouldn't hurt either. He wouldn't mind getting an official look at Xione's scans either, and a full report of her autopsy. 

He caught himself yawning. When had he gotten so tired? 

“Doctor?” The Bajoran medic poked her head in, “You have one more visitor, if you're up to it.”

Part of him debated whether he wanted to or not. He was incredibly tired after all. Instead, he gave into curiosity. “Who is it?” He shut his eyes.

“...A...Cardassian.”

He couldn't tell how she felt, but her tone was uncharacteristically flat. Perhaps that said more than the words themselves.

“I can ask him to go away, if you'd like.”

“Nonsense. Bring him in.”

He felt safe to assume that the only Cardassian to visit him would be Garak. At least, he certainly _hoped_ that would be the case. Either way, the more people that came to visit him the less he'd have to wonder on the conditions of his friends.

Another yawn snuck out. Goodness, he was tired. Perhaps his guests would cut him some slack if he fell asleep after this ordeal. 

It wouldn't hurt to shut his eyes, right? 

He indulged himself a moment, closing his eyes before he quickly wrenched them open.

No Garak.

He shut his eyes again.

How lucky he was to have befriended so many. If only Xione had that many people to care about her. Well, at least she didn't die alone. He couldn't do much, but he could say he at least did that. 

Just as he was beginning to doze a smooth, rich voice broke the quiet. “Doctor.”

Somehow, he managed to give a small smile.

“Mr. Garak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Sorry for the delay with the last portion! I've actually been sitting on it for quite some time, but between finals, the holidays, and my own personal beef with this section it's been a bit of a doozy trying to get the chapter up.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the ride, but most importantly, thank you for all for the support!


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